


The Wooing of William J Poindexter

by Gwendolynn_C



Series: Wooing William J Poindexter [1]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Multimedia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-06-03 08:07:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6603304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gwendolynn_C/pseuds/Gwendolynn_C
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek’s tumblr spoke pretty loudly on what he thought of Dex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wooing of William J Poindexter

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to DaZeli for beta-ing for me! What a gem. Many thanks to http://violacakes.tumblr.com/ for the idea for Nursey's tumblr url name.
> 
> Check Please! belongs to the amazing Ngozi

Derek Nurse had never had to woo someone. He’d never had to convince someone to be with him. He’d never even asked anyone on a date before. He’d flirt, pay a compliment, wink, smile, hell sometimes he just had to look. Most of the time, he got what he wanted. He was a very attractive athlete and, being a closeted pansexual aside, he never had trouble getting some when he wanted some. He had excellent taste, a near perfect “queer-dar” and no trouble navigating the waters of adolescent romance and sexual encounters. He was satisfied and confident; and that was both an attitude and reputation he was determined to bring to university with him.

William J Poindexter was a big eared, lite mayo, high-strung jackass. He was too much of a nerdy, pretentious conservative to want as a friend. He wasn’t attractive enough to want in any other way. Figuring out how to play hockey together and how to be teammates was a long and arduous process. It was more painful than the AP literature class he took in his junior year when his professor had been obsessed with the transcendentalists. God, the worst part was that Derek couldn’t think about the bastard without waxing poetic.

* * *

 

In the summer between his freshman and sophomore year his best friend Leo had asked about “your D-man, the one you complain about all the time.” He’d asked what he “ _thought_ of Dex” using a tone of voice that just screamed “I’m the only person in the world you’re out to and you have to talk about this shit with  _somebody._ ”

Well, Derek’s tumblr spoke pretty loudly on what he  _thought_ of Dex. He thought of Dex like Elizabeth thought about Mr. Darcy. Except Mr. Darcy was understandably sexy and also rich and a good dancer. Dex was none of those things. It was not lost on Derek that both he and Elizabeth Bennet’s troublesome crushes were both named William. Derek wondered if anyone called Dex Will or maybe Liam. Those were nice nicknames.

 

* * *

 

Sophomore year began terribly because Dex had shot up two inches over the summer and his jawline had sharpened and his ears didn’t seem so big and he had, defying all logic and probability, more freckles dotted around his eyes and mouth and ankles and hips and…

So William J Poindexter was a big eared, lite mayo, high-strung jackass. He was still too much of a nerdy, pretentious conservative to want as a friend. But he was definitely attractive enough to want in other ways. And they played hockey  _so well_ together. It was like they came together for pre-season and something just clicked. Ransom and Holster had the two of them running drills like madmen and maybe it was because they were both D-men too but they were able to help them in ways Jack hadn’t.

They created a pretty good dynamic: on the ice they worked beautifully together; off the ice, they fought until Derek’s eye twitched and Dex’s cheeks flushed sunrise red. Derek told Leo, the nosy fucker, that Dex had gotten hot but that the kid still had a terrible personality so it didn’t matter. Dex hadn’t changed a smidge since Freshman year. And Derek hadn’t changed either because he  _liked_ himself, thanks very much.

 

* * *

 

 

So Derek initiated. And Dex responded. Because Derek was a very attractive athlete, with good taste, a near perfect queer-dar and he had no trouble getting what he wanted when he wanted it. It was perfect coincidence that they both got back from Spring break at the same time. Derek initiated and Dex responded so beautifully it made him think in arrhythmic, disjointed metaphors.

 

* * *

 

Derek tried to work it into a poem but there wasn’t enough to work with. Or maybe there was too much? How could he possibly begin to describe hating a freckled idiot, hating playing with that freckled idiot and then discovering how to flawlessly achieve plays that led their whole team to victory with a freckled idiot? How could he possibly be able to put into words a joyful morning reunion of sincere comradery which bled into an afternoon of sex?

Was he supposed to start at the beginning? After the run around campus talking openly and honestly for the first time, when Dex talked about having six uncles and two pairs of shoes: one for church every Sunday and one for everything else. When Derek talked about growing up lonely and disconnected from his past. They both understood and the importance of community and found families. The words came so easily and they laughed as they cooled down afterwards, limbs stretched out on the Haus lawn, muscles tensing and then releasing. Were the protein shakes they chugged afterwards useful as a metaphor or were they just disgusting? The greenish-brown mustache on Dex’s upper lip was definitely disgusting. Their first kiss tasted slightly like protein powder but also like pie crust. Should he share that or should he keep it private?

They had  _run_ back to their dorms at top speed. Laughing. Because there was a certain kind of joy to first kisses and first gentle touches. They’d needed to shake the adrenaline high from nearly getting caught by their Captains. They’d needed to find somewhere private. He’d needed to stop Dex just as he was backing him against his dorm room door.

“Are you okay with this?”

“Yeah. Are you?”

“Yeah.”

Shitty and Derek’s 10th grade sex ed teacher would be proud of him. 

Was there any real poetic way of immortalizing hatred and confusion stripped away and just  _wanting?_

“Um. Just, just h-hands.” Dex sputtered, one sock on and one sock off, leaned back against the pillow cases Derek’s Aunt had gifted him. “I haven’t, I’ve never- But I want this, you.”

Derek kissed him. Sometimes words were superfluous.

 

* * *

 

Derek woke up slowly, preferring to swim in memories of Dex’s mouth, his teeth scraping against Derek’s collarbone, his pale hand shaking slightly then gripping his thigh then dipping under the elastic of Derek’s underwear. He was determined and sure of himself and so chillabout touching someone’s dick for the first time, it was mind blowing. Everything was mind blowing. Dex’s cock, heavy in his palm, the way he kissed like he had nothing to lose (like  _they_  had nothing to lose, like things would just get better from here) and the way his eyebrows scrunched together when he came was unexpected and wow. He’d been so concerned with clean-up, pushing his sweat drenched hair out of his face, and dropping tissues carefully into the garbage can, it was adorable. He’d eventually melted into the mattress, lazily pressed kisses to Derek’s shoulder, neck and ear until they’d both drifted off, exhausted from the run and the extra workout.

It occurred to Derek very suddenly that he didn’t have to mentally rehash everything when Dex was right next to him, these were memories after all, not fantasies (it was so much better than the fantasies). Except Dex wasn’t curled up next to him in his too small dorm bed.

Derek tried not to feel hurt. It was getting late after all, and Dex had some kind of computer homework to finish before the weekend.

 

* * *

 

Derek tried not to feel hurt.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic in this fandom! Do me a favor and drop me a comment?


End file.
